


Cut My Chest Wide Open

by shrimpheavenwow



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Pining, davey and jack in this can be read as platonic or in a relationship, just briefly, they're both happy boys!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 13:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16138685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrimpheavenwow/pseuds/shrimpheavenwow
Summary: Crutchie wanted hot chocolate. What he got was a crush on the cute barista that was serving him.





	Cut My Chest Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

> They say you have to be the change you want to see in the world so of course I had to write a longish fic because there is little content for these two. This is set in the winter because I can't not expose Crutchie for being the sweater gay that he is. Also did y'all know that Andrew Keenan-Bolger is 5'4? I'm so WEAK for short boys lol. Unbeta’d. Anyway, hope y'all like it!!
> 
> Title from Slight Figure of Speech by The Avett Brothers.

Crutchie wasn’t really expecting anything important to happen when he walked into the coffee shop down the road from his apartment.

He was tired and it was freezing and he just wanted a cup of hot chocolate on his way back from class so he could try and get a little warm before he went home and took a nap. He’d never actually been to the particular shop before, mostly because there were about 6 different coffee places within a couple blocks of his apartment and he didn’t get go to any of them all that often. Coffee made him too jittery and it usually wasn’t cold enough to justify getting a hot chocolate. But winter was in full swing now, and he was dying for something warm and sweet to take his mind off the fact that he couldn’t feel his fingers.

It was the kind of cold that you could feel through all your clothes, a chill that didn’t care that you were walking slower because of your crutch or that you were wearing three layers. Merciless. And it wasn’t even snowing, which Crutchie thought was just unfair. If weather was going to be this cold, it should at least have the decency to make the world look pretty for a bit.

He walked into the cafe and damn near sighed in relief at the wave of warmth that washed over him as he stepped inside. It wasn’t a big shop, and it honestly wasn’t really that busy. There were a few scattered people either studying or typing away at their laptops, but there were still a good amount of tables unoccupied. It was cozy though, and Crutchie could really appreciate cozy right now. He pulled his scarf down from around his face and let it bunch at his shoulders, making his way to the counter. The employee had his back to him, talking to someone else behind the counter. Crutchie waited a second for him to turn around, but after a moment of standing there he just cleared his throat a little, hoping that he would hear him.

The guy startled a bit and turned on his heel to face Crutchie, looking embarrassed for second before his face quickly shifted into an easy smile. He was tall, well, at the very least taller than Crutchie. His hair was short and mostly hidden under the hat he was wearing, apparently a part of his uniform, but there were still some stray curls peeking out from under the brim. He was also wearing short sleeves under his apron and Crutchie was honestly a little concerned that he was surviving in that kind of clothing, regardless of the fact that they were indoors. But the most interesting thing about the guy was the fact that he was _very_ cute. He braced himself against the counter with one hand while the other was placed loosely on his hip.

“Hiya, what can I get for you today?” He asked. He gave Crutchie a subtle once over and Crutchie couldn’t help but blush a little bit at the attention. If his face wasn’t already red from the cold, it certainly was now.

Crutchie gave him a little smile.

“Can I get a small hot chocolate with cinnamon please?” Crutchie responded. The guy behind the counter nodded.

“Sure, can I get a name for that?”

“Crutchie,” he answered without really thinking. The guy raised an eyebrow, sending a pointed look from Crutchie’s face to his crutch. Crutchie smiled a bit bigger. “It’s a nickname,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulder. The guy chuckled.

“Alrighty then Crutchie, that’ll be $2.49.”

Crutchie paid and the employee turned and grabbed a cup, writing Crutchie’s his name on it. Crutchie moved to the pick up area, shifting his weight so it was more on his crutch than his leg, waiting for his order. The guy called his name and slid the drink across the counter.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you...Finch?” Crutchie said, reading his name tag.

The employee- Finch- grinned.

“It’s a nickname,” he responded with a wink that made Crutchie blush all over again. Crutchie took his drink and walked over to a table. He took a sip of his drink, glancing over at Finch, who’d turned back to his coworker behind the counter. Crutchie smiled down at his drink. He may not have wanted it to be so cold that day, but if that’s what it took for cute boys to serve him hot chocolate and wink at him then he guessed it wasn’t so bad. It helped that the hot chocolate was _damn_ good.

 

+++++

 

Crutchie was back the next day. He definitely only came back because it was still freezing outside and not because he was hoping a particular cute guy to be working again. And the universe really did seem to be on Crutchie’s side, because when he walked in, Finch was at the counter, looking vaguely bored and disinterested. There were more people in the shop today, to the point where there were only a few open tables left, but there still wasn’t a line. Finch spotted him coming in and seemed to perk up, and while he knew it was probably because he was excited to have a customer so he’d have something to do, Crutchie liked to imagine that it was because of him specifically. He suppressed a grin and walked to the counter.

Finch gave him the same easy smile as the day before.

“Hey, welcome back. Same as yesterday?” He asked. This time Crutchie didn’t even try to hide his smile at the fact that he’d remembered his order.

“Please.” Finch shot him a grin before ringing him up and turning to start making the drink. “Wait, don’t you need my name?”

Finch gave him a side glance as he filled the cup, a smirk gracing his lips.

“Don’t need one. I never forget a pretty face.”

Crutchie had accepted at this point that he would become a blushing mess every time he talked to this guy but he didn’t know if he could handle having his legs turn to jello whenever he said something like that. No, actually, he only had one good leg and he couldn’t afford to accidentally tripping over himself because he will fall and then he’d look like an clumsy idiot in front of this cute boy.

When Finch handed him his drink over the counter, their fingers brushed just slightly. Before Finch could draw back the whole way from the counter, Crutchie blurted out “It’s Charlie.”

At Finch’s confusion, Crutchie continued. “I go by Crutchie most of the time but my name is Charlie.”

Finch gave him an amused look. He extended his hand in mock seriousness.

“Well nice to meet you Charlie, I’m Patrick, but you can call me Finch.”

Crutchie breathed out a shaky laugh, shaking Finch’s hand. He smiled to himself as he headed towards an empty table. He’d brought his laptop this time, figuring that if he was going to sneak glances at Finch, he might as well be doing it while finishing his history paper.

He’d been working for a good half hour when someone slid into the chair across from him. He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. Finch was sitting across from him. _Why was Finch sitting across from him_. He was smiling and Crutchie had enough sense to smile back, even if it was more full of nervousness than happiness.

“Mind if I sit here? I’m taking my break and everywhere else seems to be just about full.”

Crutchie looked around. Sure enough, there didn’t seem to be any open tables, only a couple of seats sat empty, all next to some person or another. Who was Crutchie to turn away someone who couldn’t find a seat?

“Go right ahead.” Finch seemed a tiny bit relieved, sliding down in his chair a bit. He took off his hat and ran his finger through his hair before putting the hat back on. He sat up again and leaned forward on his forearms.

“Whatcha working on?” He asked.

“Just this paper for my history class,” Crutchie responded, trying his best to sound dismissive, as if it wasn’t that important. If Finch was talking to him then he wasn’t going to be focusing on the paper anyway. Finch nodded, apparently taking the way that Crutchie had leaned back in his seat and away from the computer as an invitation to keep talking.

“Nice, what are you majoring in?”

“Social work, helping those who need helping, that kind of thing.”

Finch’s smile got bigger but his gaze grew softer.

“That’s adorable. It suits you.” Crutchie ducked his head and ran a hand back through his hair, letting out the softest giggle that he will 100% deny because why did he just _giggle_?

“Aw, thanks. I just want to help people,” he responded. Finch gave a little shake of his head, something that seemed more to himself than in response to the conversation. Crutchie wasn’t even certain he was doing it.

“That’s a really admirable outlook, just wanting to help people. Being a barista makes you want to strangle people more often than help them.”

Crutchie chuckled. “That’s fair honestly, I’m sure you deal with a lot of people who are less than nice.”

Finch sighed. “Yeah, it’s not always the best,” he said before shooting a smile towards Crutchie. “Not everyone can be sweet like you.” Crutchie let himself grin.

“Well, I can’t testify to how sweet I am, but I certainly try to be kind to everyone I meet.”

“I can tell ya, you’re plenty sweet. I mean, you don’t even know me and you’re letting me sit at your table and talk to you. Plus, hot chocolate is a pretty sugary drink. Having one everyday almost certainly has some last effects on your personality.”

Crutchie shook his head and pressed a hand to his cheek, exaggerating his bashfulness.

“Aw stop it, I’m blushing,” he joked. He figured that if he played up how flattered he was then Finch would think it was mostly a joke and ignore the fact that he actually was blushing. A lot. Crutchie would never admit it, but he really did like attention, especially when it came in the form of cute boys calling him sweet. He took a breath and tried to change the subject to something that wouldn’t set his cheeks on fire. “What about you? Are you a student?”

Finch leaned back in his chair, giving noncommittal wave of his hand. “Eh, kinda. I was for two years but I stopped. I’m taking a year, earning some money, that kind of thing. I’ll probably go back, but I don’t have any real big plans with it at the moment.” Crutchie nodded.

“Did you know what you wanted to study when you were in it before?” He asked.

Finch’s face broke into a grin again. “Architecture. I was really into it in high school, figured that’s what I wanted to do.” Crutchie smiled back at him.

“That’s nice.”

Finch just smiled. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist before turning so he was facing the counter. There wasn’t anyone in line and one guy stood there, leaning against wall behind him, waiting for someone to walk in. Finch cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Hey Albert, make me a coffee and I’ll love you forever,” he called back. The employee behind the counter looked over at him. Even from across the room, Crutchie could hear the guy’s exasperated sigh as he started to make Finch’s coffee. Finch turned back around, smirking. “He hates me but he’s the best.”

When Albert brought over the coffee, Finch ran a hand down his arm, from shoulder to wrist, looking up at him.

“Thank you darling,” Finch teased. Albert rolled his eyes and muttered something Crutchie didn’t quite catch before walking away. Finch took a dramatic swig of his drink.

Crutchie tried not to think about the way Finch’s hand had slid down Albert’s arm, or the way he’d looked at him, or the fact that he’d called him ‘darling’. Crutchie didn’t think about it because what if Finch and Albert were dating? What if they were dating and Crutchie was flirting with a taken guy?

On the other hand, Finch could just be flirting because that’s what he does. Crutchie didn’t know him very well, and it wouldn’t be that strange. Hell, Jack flirted with everything that moved, that didn’t always mean he was interested. It was plausible that Finch was just naturally a flirt. The thought helped calm Crutchie somewhat, the idea that Albert and Finch weren’t dating, that they were just affectionate friends.

The nervousness was soon replaced with a different string of thoughts: did that mean that he was just flirting with Crutchie because he was being friendly? Was Crutchie holding onto false hope that he was really interested? Was Crutchie reading way too far into the flirting and Finch genuinely just wanted to be friends?

He could feel the lump of anxiety forming in his throat, the fear that maybe he’d had this all wrong. He cleared his throat, forcing a brief smile onto his face.

“Sorry, I have to get back to writing this paper.”

Finch’s face fell just a bit but he nodded in understanding. Crutchie watched him pull out his phone and started scrolling through, taking a sip of his coffee. Crutchie turned back to his computer and tried to remember where he left off.

Finch’s break ended eventually and he said goodbye with a smile and a wave before going back to work. Crutchie sighed and focused on his screen, not letting himself think about how let down he felt about not having a chance with a boy he’d just met. It was fine! It didn’t matter!! Crutchie loved just being friends with people!!! It just sucked when it was someone as attractive and funny as Finch was.

 

+++++

 

Finch was rapidly becoming a regular fixture at Crutchie’s table. On his breaks, he’d taken to sitting across from or next to Crutchie, at first citing the excuse that he didn’t like sitting alone, until eventually he didn’t have to use one at all. He would just sit down and Crutchie was absolutely fine with it.

Crutchie had gone home that second day and calmed down about whether he was reading the situation accurately or not. It wasn’t a big deal that Finch was a flirt, because Crutchie was fine being friends. He was a little disappointed by the lack of interest, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still talk to him and hang out with him and stare at him because god was he pretty. It was fine! No big deal.

His suspicions that Finch flirted with everyone were confirmed by his interactions with his coworkers. Crutchie had heard him call them a variety of pet names, ranging from “doll face” to “pretty boy.”

Crutchie hated the stab of jealousy he felt every time he heard one of those pet names. It was an unwarranted and unwanted, because he didn’t own Finch, he wasn’t involved with him in any way. It wasn’t his place to be jealous, and yet jealous he was. He pushed away the feeling every time it arose and focused instead on smiling wider, on being happier that he was talking to Finch and hanging out with him.

Plus, Finch didn’t stop flirting with him. Sometimes he’d call Crutchie cute or funny or comment on Crutchie’s smile or his dimples or whatever. While he was hesitant about flirting back as comfortably as Finch, it still never failed to make Crutchie smile wider, or blush heavier.

The good part about it though, was that they were becoming friends, actual friends. They talked through Finch’s breaks, they laughed and joked around. They learned stuff about each other.

Crutchie knew Finch’s favorite color (green), what instruments he played (piano and bass guitar), and the name of his childhood dog (Mac). He knew little things, like that Finch didn’t like chocolate really, and he could recite the preamble of the constitution in under ten seconds, (he learned it in high school and never forgot it).

The other thing he learned about Finch is that he was constantly smiling.

There was always a grin or a smirk on his face, sometimes a small side smile or a quirk of the lips. He always looked so damn happy and Crutchie didn’t know if he could handle how cute it was.

Which was what led him to lying face down on his couch as Jack and Davey looked on at him from the kitchen of Crutchie and Jack’s apartment.

Crutchie groaned into the cushion. Being gay was hard.

“Hey Crutch, what is it this time,” Jack called from the doorway from the kitchen to the living room. Crutchie flipped himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m gay,” he answered. Jack rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, we know, you’ve basically been out since you were born.”

Crutchie shot him a glare. He wasn’t wrong though. Jack and him had been foster brothers since Crutchie was little, until they were teenagers and Medda adopted them officially. When Crutchie came to live with them, he was only six. He never knew his parents, or at least couldn’t remember them, and because of that, he didn’t know that straight people existed. He thought all boys liked boys, he didn’t know guys were “supposed” to like girls. It wasn’t until Jack had talked to him about it one day that he found out that not every other boy was like him. Jack and Medda both thought the story was cute but Crutchie just thought it was embarrassing.

“There’s this guy at the coffee shop who’s very cute and it sucks because I’m gay,” he clarified. Davey poked his head into the doorframe from the kitchen.

“That’s why you’ve been spending so much time there? You’ve been regularly going for a few weeks, have you talked to the guy?” Davey asked.

Crutchie threw an arm over his face.

“Yes, we talk basically every time. He takes his break and sits at my table usually.”

Jack walked to the couch and made Crutchie move so he could sit down.

“That sounds promising. What do you talk about?”

“Just normal stuff: what I’m working on in school, how his day’s been, odd things or people we’ve seen. We’re friends, I think.”

“Do you think he’s interested?”

Crutchie hesitated.

“Maybe? Probably not? I can’t tell, sometimes he’ll say something about how I’m cute when I’m focused or that he likes the way I cut my hair, but he’s also kinda like that with everyone? I never know if he’s saying it because he’s being nice or if he’s actually flirting.”

Davey leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, thinking. “Have you tried asking him to hang out? If he seems really into it then make it a date but if he’s lukewarm about it you could play it off like friends.”

Jack nodded. “You could do that. Or you could just ask him out on a date and see flat out if he refuses you.” He shrugged, “Can’t hurt.”

Crutchie snorted out a laugh. “It most certainly could hurt.”

“What’s the worst that could happen,” Davey asked.

“Death? Fire? The apocalypse??”

Jack ruffled his hair. “Hey now, don’t be so dramatic. If he’s a good guy then he’d be nice about it even if he’s not interested. But, if it will make you feel better, try something easier. Get his phone number.”

Crutchie stilled. That was...not impossible. He could do that right? Friends gave each other their phone numbers too so he could play it off like that. Easy. Simple.

Jack started talking again. “If it’ll help, I’ll even go with you tomorrow, give you a second opinion on whether he’s interested or not.”

Crutchie perked up. “That would work.”

 

+++++

 

Crutchie got to the shop earlier than Jack did, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. Jack had a tendency to lose track of time easily, especially when he was painting or with Davey, which was most of the time. Crutchie didn’t mind, he was willing to wait.

Finch was at the counter, his back turned to Crutchie as he talked to someone down the line, mirroring the first time Crutchie had met him there. Had that really only been a couple of weeks ago?

Finch turned around as Crutchie approached. His face perked up as he turned again, this time to grab a cup that had been placed off to the side. He slid it across the counter.

“Small hot chocolate with cinnamon, right?” he asked with a grin that said full well that he knew he was right. Crutchie tried to keep his surprise at Finch getting his order ready before he came from his face, masking both his excitement and shock with a smile.

“Yeah, you got it right,” he said, beaming. Finch’s smile turned briefly into something softer, one part relief and two parts joy at how well his action had been received.

Crutchie went to a his table with a warmth settling in his chest, even before his first sip. He sat down and swung his feet under the table, unable to contain the childlike elation he felt. Maybe there was a chance Finch liked him after all.

Finch joined him about 20 minutes later, sliding into the chair across from him. Crutchie was reading, but he closed the book and focused his attention on Finch. Finch rested an elbow on the table and leaned his head into his hand, a little smile on his face. He looked so calm, so peaceful like that.

He nodded at the book. “Whatcha reading?”

“Going Postal by Terry Pratchett. Have you read it?” Finch shook his head. “It’s good, it’s about this con artist who’s set to be executed but when they’re about to hang him he-”

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Jack walked up from behind Crutchie, resting a hand on the back of Crutchie’s chair. Crutchie turned to look at him. There was red paint smeared across his jaw and white and yellow paint on his hands and splattered up his arms.

“You get caught up in painting again?” Crutchie asked.

“Yeah, there’s this big piece I’ve been working on for a commission. It’s coming along pretty well but oils take forever to dry.”

“You better not have gotten paint on all the door handles again,” Crutchie said, shooting a pointed look at Jack’s hands. Jack gasped in mock offense.

“I would never! I learned my lesson the first time.” He playfully nudged Crutchie with his arm.

Crutchie turned his attention back to Finch, who was now sitting up straight rather than leaning on his elbow. The smile had gone from his face and his eyes were just the tiniest bit wider. He flicked his gaze from Crutchie to Jack for just a second before a tense, tight lipped smile made its way onto his face. Jack stuck out a hand.

“Hi, I’m Jack.” Finch took it.

“Finch, nice to meet ya.”

Jack turned back to Crutchie. “I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything?”

“Nope, still working on this cup. Thanks though.”

Jack walked over towards the counter. Crutchie looked over at Finch.

“What was I talking about? Going Postal, I think?” Finch nodded hesitantly, but then quickly shook his head.

“Oh shoot, actually I just remembered that I have to go fix the espresso machine! It’s been out of whack all week, boss said I had to fix it today. Sorry, I have to cut my break short. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He stood and pushed in his chair before hurrying away, back towards the counter, far from the register. Crutchie looked on, utterly blindsided by whatever that just was.

Jack returned a few seconds later, coffee in hand.

“Where’d your boy go?” He asked, looking around. Crutchie pointed back towards the counter. “Oh dang, did I catch you guys at the end of his break?” Crutchie shook his head.

“He usually stays longer. I don’t know why he rushed off.”

He watched as Finch fiddled with the espresso machine, wiping it down and opening a panel on the side. It looked like he was doing a whole lot of nothing, but then again, what did Crutchie know about repairing espresso machines?

Jack stayed there for a while, talking and hanging out with Crutchie. Crutchie enjoyed the company but couldn’t help but glance over every now and then towards the counter. Finch had moved from the espresso machine to wiping down the counter to making drinks and back to the espresso machine. He hadn’t looked at Crutchie a single time since he’d started, and eventually he’d made his way into the back room. He should’ve been done with his shift by now, but Crutchie still hadn’t seen him come back to the front. Maybe there was a back exit he didn’t know about?

Crutchie sighed. He’d been here too long to justify staying. He got up and left the shop with Jack, bummed that he hadn’t even gotten the chance to get Finch’s number.

Jack bumped into his side as he walked.

“I can’t really give much of an opinion about whether he likes you or not, because I didn’t really talk to him, but from the look he was giving you when I walked in, he seemed at least a tiny bit interested. Plus, he’s cute. You should go for it.”

Crutchie shrugged. He didn’t want to be a pessimist about it, but he couldn’t shake the image of Finch rushing away, like he couldn’t wait to get away from him.

“Yeah, I’ll try to get his number tomorrow I guess.”

“Ayyy, atta boy. Don’t let today get you down. Maybe he was just busy!” Crutchie appreciated that Jack was trying to cheer him up. He attempted a smile.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

 

+++++

 

Crutchie showed up at his normal time the next day. This time Albert was at the register, and while there was still a drink waiting for him, he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that Finch was farther down the line, not even sparing him a glance as he cleaned up.

After sitting a his table for a while, Crutchie was almost convinced that Finch wasn’t going to sit with him on his break. Just as he was about to resolve himself to sitting alone for the next little bit, someone sat down across from him.

“Hi,” Finch said, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, a bunch of boxes got knocked down in the back and I had to help clean up so my break got a bit delayed.”

Crutchie smiled. “It’s no problem! You had work you had to do.”

Finch let a little smile slip onto his face. They sat there for a minute, a strange silence between them. They didn’t always talked when they sat with each other, but usually those silences were a lot more comfortable. This one felt oddly stiff, more like sitting with a stranger than sitting with a friend. Finch cleared his throat.

“So, your boyfriend not stopping by?” Finch said. It was obvious that he was trying to seem nonchalant about what his words, but Crutchie noticed the way that he wouldn’t meet his eyes. There was a kind of hesitation there, a kind of nervousness that Crutchie couldn’t read.

“My what?” He asks, confused.

“Your boyfriend? Jack, I think?”

“Ohhhh no he’s not my boyfriend,” Crutchie laughed. “He’s my brother actually. We’re both adopted.”

Finch’s face went red. “Oh!” He laughed nervously. “Sorry, oh god that’d be weird. I just assumed-- I mean you said something about sharing an apartment so I thought maybe you-- oh my god.” He ducked his head, clearing his throat. “Damn, okay. Not your boyfriend.”

Crutchie laughed. Finch was cute when he was flustered. While he was still obviously embarrassed, he seemed more himself than a few minutes ago, his laid back demeanor returning. He picked his head back up.

“For the record, I’m glad you’re not dating your brother,” Finch said with a little smile. Crutchie returned it.

“Me too.”

Their tones were light and joking, but Crutchie couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that there was meaning just beyond the words. Finch might’ve just been making a joke to try and shake off his mistake, but Crutchie had actually meant something with what he said. Yes, he was obviously glad he wasn’t dating Jack, but he trying to say he was glad he wasn’t dating anyone. He wanted Finch to read between the lines, wanted him to pick up on the fact that Crutchie was on his way to hopelessly gone for him.

They looked at each other in comfortable silence for a moment. It felt like the room around them had softened to a dull roar, fading in the background. For a second, it was just Crutchie and Finch, sitting across from one another at a table, taking sips from their drinks and stealing glances at each other. Something about it felt far too intimate for what it was, and all it was was two guys hanging out in a coffee shop while one was on break. It felt like it shouldn’t have felt so _right_. Crutchie was seized then with an odd surge of confidence, so he took a breath and broke their silence.

“Hey, can I have your number? Just in case you wanted to hang out sometime outside of the coffee shop,” Crutchie said, adding on the last part quickly, simultaneously scared that Finch would realize that he was interested and also scared that he wouldn’t realize that Crutchie was interested.

Finch broke into a big grin. “Yeah, of course.”

Crutchie fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his contacts before handing it over for Finch to put his number in. When he handed it back, Crutchie sent him a text to make sure Finch had his number too.  Finch’s phone buzzed on the table and he shot Crutchie a quick smile before picking it up, presumably to put Crutchie’s contact in.

They talked for awhile, nothing really of consequence but Crutchie couldn’t stop grinning. His cheeks were probably going to be a bit sore by tomorrow but it was fine because he was talking to Finch and he was so _happy_.

He got a text later that day. And then another. And another.

So they started texting, not super frequently, but enough that Crutchie got used to the way he texted, the mannerisms that only displayed themselves via messages. The fact that they talked outside of the shop felt like a step in the right direction, and even though it may have been slow going, Crutchie was just happy they were moving anywhere at all.

 

+++++

 

Crutchie honestly felt like he might collapse at any minute.

He walked into the coffee shop feeling exhausted and on edge. It was nearing the end of the semester and he had a big project due for one of his classes. He hadn’t mean to put it off, but the deadline had snuck up on him so he was left with only around a two days to do research and bullshit his way through it. He’d barely slept, class had been stressful all day and as much as he hated it, he needed coffee.

He walked walked into the shop. Finch wasn’t behind the counter, instead Albert was manning the register. Finch was farther down the line behind the counter, wiping off the surface with a towel. Albert saw Crutchie come in and walked over to wear Finch was standing. Crutchie could see them talking as he approached the register, Finch looking up and over at him. He passed his towel to Albert and switched jobs with him, walking over to Crutchie. Crutchie might’ve thought this meant something if he wasn’t so tired he could barely think.

Finch smiled at him, a broad, happy smile.

“Hey, drink’s already made.” He said, moving the cup from a the counter to the register. Crutchie bit his lip.

“Actually, can I have something different today?” Crutchie’s voice sounded so foreign and fake in his ears.

Finch looked at him, confused, his head cocked to the side just a bit.

“Oh um… yeah, sure. What’ll it be?”

“Just give me a large of whatever has the most caffeine.”

Finch gave him a hesitant nod, his brow furrowed as he rung him up.

Crutchie went to a table to wait for his name to be called. He opened his laptop and stared at all the tabs he’d opened full of research and different documents he’d been typing in. He didn’t do anything with them, just stared till his eyes unfocused. He sat like that for a minute, thinking about nothing. He vaguely processed that while he was zoning out, the pink panther theme was playing on repeat in his head.

“Crutchie!”

He snapped back to himself. Finch was at the pick up counter, staring at him. He got up and went to get his drink.

Finch gave him a concerned look.

“I called your name like five times. Are you okay?”

Crutchie looked away, embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired.” He forced a laugh. It was pitiful. “Really, this project’s got me beat but I’m fine.”

Finch nodded slowly, obviously unconvinced. “Well take care of yourself, okay? Rest a bit.”

Crutchie nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

He went back to his seat and took a big sip of his drink and shuddered. He hated coffee. He hated the taste of coffee, he hated having that much caffeine, he just hated it. Coffee always made him uncomfortable. He felt like he had too much energy and his heart would beat too fast and also at certain point he knew he’d start being able to hear colors. Caffeine didn’t sit well with him at all, but he braced himself and took another gulp. He needed it if he was going to work.

It wasn’t until three refills later that Finch sat down at his table. It was later than he normally took his break, but that was probably due to the big rush of people that had randomly come in. Crutchie glanced up at him as he sat down before returning his eyes to his computer.

“Hey,” Finch said.

“Hi,” Crutchie responded, typing still.

There was a pause as neither talked. Finch cleared his throat.  
“Are you sure you’re okay, Crutch?” He asked. “You never get coffee. You told me that you hated coffee, and, no offense, you look like hell.” Crutchie nodded profusely, his eyes not leaving his screen.  
  
“Yep, totally. Just needed the extra boost, I have a lot of work to do.”  
  
Crutchie reached over for his coffee, his hand unsteady and shaky. Finch grabbed his hand out of the air, placing it gently between both of his own.  
  
“Crutchie, you’re shaking. You need a break, from your work and from the coffee.”  
  
Crutchies eyes were fixed on where Finch was holding his hand. If he was feeling a little more himself and not completely filled with anxiety, he might’ve felt embarrassed by the contact, maybe flattered. At the moment, he couldn’t even process what was going on. He was running on two and half hours of sleep and four cups of coffee and Finch was holding his hand, staring at him, clearly worried about his well being. Crutchie’s heart was going a mile a minute, but he couldn’t tell if that was he caffeine or a general side effect of being touched by Finch.  
  
Crutchie blinked, snapping back to himself. He looked up at Finch and met his eyes. He felt.....vulnerable. With Finch looking in his eyes, it felt like he could see everything going through Crutchie’s head, could sense every thought, could hear his heart beating out of his chest. And the scariest part was, Finch’s gaze seemed les filled with worry than before. His concern had almost entirely left his face, replaced with a softer look, a look of pure understanding. Crutchie was frozen, practically terrified: of missing his deadline, of not finishing the project, of Finch thinking he was being stupid or dumb or weird. Finch wasn’t looking away. He rubbed one of his thumbs in a small circle on the back of Crutchie’s hand and gave him a small smile.  
  
“Take a break Crutchie. Let yourself rest. You can get through this without driving yourself insane, I promise.”  
  
Crutchie just nodded, a little wide eyed. He glanced at his computer screen, sighing. He closed it, not even bothering to turn it off. He’d be back on it at some point, but for the moment, he was taking a break. Finch’s smile grew, just a tiny bit. He gave Crutchie’s hand a squeeze, or as much of a squeeze as he could with how it was pressed between two hands, and let go. Crutchie tried not to be too upset by the loss of contact, but before he could really process it, Finch was coming around to his chair and offering to help him up with an outstretched hand. Crutchie looked up at him in confusion but let Finch help him up.  
  
Crutchie grabbed his crutch and Finch grabbed the laptop, putting it into Crutchie’s bag and carrying it. He nodded in the direction of the corner of the shop and placed a hand on the small of Crutchie’s back.  
  
“Hey, follow me.”  
  
Crutchie was confused but had no reason not to follow. Finch lead them towards a door marked “employees only.”

“This is the ‘employee lounge’, which sounds cooler than it is. It honestly only exists because we were so short staffed a few months ago that people were pulling a ridiculous shifts. Somehow we convinced our boss to give us a couch so we could nap before working, especially because most of the employees are students,” he explained.

He was walking close to Crutchie, their sides not quite pressed together but occasionally brushing against each other.  
  
Crutchie didn’t let himself think about how much contact he had with Finch, he just focused on where they were going, on trying to get there without tripping over himself.

Through the door was a small room with a couch in the corner. Finch sat down him down and placed himself next to him, enough distance between them that they weren’t touching, but close enough that if Crutchie moved a bit to his side he’d be leaning against him. Finch tucked one of his legs under him and turned his body a bit to face Crutchie.  
  
Crutchie attempted a smile, one that was less forced than before. Finch seemed to relax a bit when he saw it. He took a breath.  
  
“I told you I’m taking a year from school. This is why,” he said, gesturing at Crutchie. “I was stressed out all the time. I barely slept, I barely ate, I rarely had time for myself, let alone to hang out with friends. It’s a lot, being a student. I didn’t know how to slow down and take care of myself. You need to rest Crutchie,” he said with a smile, putting a hand on Crutchie’s shoulder and shaking him a little, “so I’m going to make you rest.” Crutchie huffed out a little laugh, but it was accompanied by a thankful smile. Finch retracted his hand, straightening himself so he wasn’t completely turned to look at Crutchie.  
  
“You can stay in here as long as you want, and I know you’re going to want to get back to working on your project but I’m not letting you back out there till you relax a bit. Lay down, take a nap if you can. You’re going to take a minute for yourself, okay?”

Crutchie nodded. He sucked in a breath and leaned into Finch’s side, trying his best to seem natural and nonchalant. Finch stiffened for about a half a second before he brought his arm up to wrap around Crutchie’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Crutchie sighed. He was so grateful for Finch, for his willingness to force Crutchie to relax. Finch was warm and his side was soft and Crutchie was tired. He could’ve fallen asleep like that, pressed to Finch’s side, an arm around him, a hand stroking his shoulder softly, an almost unconscious action. But he didn’t fall asleep like that, because it would have been weird. Finch and him were just friends, and just friends don’t randomly fall asleep on the other’s shoulder. Plus, he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to sleep anytime soon with how much caffeine he’d had. His heart rate had slowed slightly, but he could still practically hear the blood pounding in his ears.

Finch let out a little chuckle, a sound that Crutchie could hear from his position pressed against Finch. It was a low noise that built somewhere deep in his chest and it might have actually been the most calming sound Crutchie had ever heard.

Finch moved his hand to ruffle Crutchie’s hair before pulling away. He gave him a smile that was only the tiniest bit sheepish. Mostly it just looked fond. He stood up and walked towards the door. He flashed a grin back at where Crutchie was sitting.  
  
“Lay down Crutch, you need it,” he said before heading out the door.  
  
He did as he was told, a genuine smile on his face. His heart was still racing, just a bit, but this time it felt good. This time it felt like he deserved it. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his heart rate, calming himself down.

He laid there for around 45 minutes, his eyes closed, not really dozing but not fully awake and alert. He focused on his breathing, on the sound of his heartbeat. By the time he got back up, he significantly more rested. He had a weird kind of motivation come over him. Instead of the dread he usually felt when thinking about his project, he felt like there was a way to save it from being a total failure. He could finish it. Holy shit he could finish it.

He got up, grabbed his things and left the room. Finch was at the register but he wasn’t busy with any customers, so Crutchie decided to talk to him before he left.

Crutchie was sure he was blushing as he approached, but Finch didn’t comment on it. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thanks. I uh, I really needed that.”

Finch smiled. “No problem! If you need anything, let me know. Seriously anything Crutch, I’ll help out in any way I can.”

Crutchie down at the counter, huffing out a little laugh.

“I’ll remember that. Well, I better head out. Thanks again!”

Finch waved as Crutchie turned around and headed out the door, a newfound determination in his step.

 

+++++

 

Crutchie knew that with the amount of time he spent working on school, he was going to work himself into a kind of stress sickness. What he didn’t think about was that it was cold, and people were sick, and what he thought was just exhaustion from school was actually exhaustion from the flu. Stress sickness quickly morphed into real sickness and he could not be less pleased with this development.

He still had two major assignments due in the next few days but he couldn’t work on them because the light of his computer screen was absolutely killing his eyes. He had classes he was missing and papers to write and even with all that stress, all he could think about was that he wasn’t going to be able to go to the coffee shop for his hot chocolate.

He hadn’t skipped a day of going since he started, and while it might not have been the been the best thing for his bank account, it was making him very happy so he didn’t intend on stopping. He considered sending Finch a text saying that he wasn’t going to be able to make it, but ultimately decided that it would seem a little too clingy.

Crutchie was wrapped in a hoodie that was far too big for him, but was soft and warm and basically the only thing keeping him alive at the moment. He was wearing his ultimate comfy clothes, the kind of thing he only ever broke out when he was really sad or really sick. He was wrapped in his softest blanket, burying himself in it when he was on the couch and wrapping it tight around his body when he had to go to the kitchen or the bathroom.

He spent most of his day sleeping, but for the moments he was awake it was pure hell. He managed to subdue the urge to hurl himself off the apartment building just to end his suffering, but not without copious amounts of Disney movies.

He was halfway through Big Hero Six when his phone went off.

**Finch: hey, u busy today? u weren’t here at your normal time**

Crutchie smiled. When Finch was working he sometimes snuck his phone out to text him. He also abbreviated words as much as possible when he was working in order to text faster and get it put away before someone saw him. Crutchie typed out his response.

**Crutchie: im sick, can’t make it out of the house. pls send thoughts and prayers**

**Finch: to what address should i send these thoughts and prayers?**

Crutchie was trying to think of a funny and clever place to tell Finch to send them when his phone buzzed again.

**Finch: ok actually tho, can i have your address? i know that sounds creepy as hell but i promise im not going to come over and kill u. i have a surprise for u**

Crutchie wasn’t about to lie and say that wasn’t one of the most ominous things he’d ever heard but apparently he had no real self preservation instinct, because he sent his address over anyway.

He fell asleep after that, waking up to someone knocking on his door.

It was probably Jack; sometimes he forgot his keys and had to have Crutchie let him in. On the rare occasion when Jack had forgotten his keys and Crutchie wasn’t there to let him in, he’d had to sit outside the door for nearly two hours. His phone was dead by the time Crutchie got there and he looked bored out of his mind. This incident still didn’t stop him from forgetting his keys.

Crutchie shuffled to the door, trying his best not to shiver too much as his feet hit the cold floor. They had carpet, but it was still cold in comparison to his body.

He opened the door and who was beyond it nearly made his jaw drop.

Finch was standing there, two cups from the coffee shop in his hands and a big grin on his face.

Crutchie stared at him, suddenly hyper aware of how he was dressed and the fact that he hadn’t showered. He opened the door a bit wider to let Finch in.

“Sorry that I’m showing up at your place uninvited, I just figured that since you’re sick and can’t go out to get your drink, I’d just have to bring it to you. I hope that’s okay,” Finch explained, handing Crutchie his drink. Crutchie took a sip and let out a sigh.

“It’s more than okay. I needed this more than I need air.” It may have been a bit of an exaggeration but he really did feel a lot better now that he had something nice and warm in him. “Sorry I look like shit, I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”

Finch laughed. “It’s fine, I understand. And for the record, you look endearing all wrapped in a blanket like that.”

Crutchie was glad he could blame the red in his cheeks on the fact that he was sick and not have to acknowledge how flustered Finch’s compliments made him. He hid his face briefly in the folds of his blanket, overplaying his embarrassment just a tad.

When glanced back up, Finch was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, apparently unsure of how to act in the new environment.

Crutchie bit his lip and nodded towards the couch. “Want to stay for a bit? I’m watching Disney movies and pretending I don’t want to die.”

Finch visibly relaxed at the invitation. “I would love to.”

They made it all the way through Mulan and part of the way through Inside Out before Crutchie started to nod off. He was trying to stay awake, he really was, but being sick was sapping all of his energy. He turned towards Finch from his place on the couch.

“I might fall asleep, so if I do, feel free to let yourself out. I can be damn near impossible to wake up sometimes.”

Finch made a motion to get up as he asked, “Do you want me to leave now, so you can get some sleep?” Crutchie shook his head.

“No, stay. Finish the movie. Nothing’s worse than having to leave something halfway through.”

Finch settled back into the couch and Crutchie let his eyes slip closed.

He listened to the movie play in the background as he began to doze, only about half conscious. After about 10 minutes he spoke again.

“Do you ever feel like that?” He asked.

“Feel like what?” Finch answered. Crutchie jerked his head vaguely in the direction of the tv.

“Inside out. Like your emotions are everywhere and you can’t control them, like you don’t know what to feel.”

There was a long pause after that, and Crutchie started to fall asleep. As he drifted off he couldn’t tell if Finch had answered or if he’d imagined the soft “yeah” that came from his direction. He was out before he had a chance to think about it.

 

+++++

 

Finch was gone when he woke up. He spent the rest of the night alternating between sleeping and waking up drenched in sweat. It was less than ideal.

Crutchie was sick for a few more days after that, and while he was progressively getting better, he still wasn’t well enough to go down to the coffee shop. Finch hadn’t repeated his gesture from the last time he was over, but he texted Crutchie everyday to check up on how he was doing and to ask if he needed anything.

Crutchie didn’t want Finch to have to buy him hot chocolate everyday, so he enlisted the help of Jack to run down to the coffee shop and buy them for him. One time Davey did it because he was over and Jack was feeling particularly lazy. He came back with a big smile on his face and told Crutchie that Finch had told Davey to tell Crutchie that he really hoped Crutchie got better soon because he missed seeing him smiling around the shop.

Crutchie started going back when he was well enough and they slipped back into their normal routine. Finch made his drink before he got there, sat at his table during his break, and texted him occasionally when he was off work. But as much as Crutchie liked spending time with Finch in the shop, he wanted to see him more, to be able to spend more time with him than just the 15 minute breaks he was getting. He was going to ask Finch to hang out, properly hang out, not watch Disney movies while Crutchie was half dead. He was going to do it if it killed him.

On second thought, it might actually kill him.

A boy Crutchie didn’t recognize stood at the counter, a smile fixed on his face. His smile only grew when he saw Crutchie come through the door. Crutchie glanced at his name tag, which read “Elmer.”

“You’re Finch’s guy right? He’s in the back, I’ll go get him so you guys can talk,” Elmer said before winking and turning around to walk towards the back. Crutchie wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t feel the tiniest rush of excitement at being called “Finch’s guy.” They obviously weren’t together, but the idea that people thought they might be made Crutchie’s heart beat a little faster.

Finch emerged from the back, a curious look on his face. As he walked over to the register, Elmer was walking a few feet behind him, raising his hands up high so Crutchie could see the big double thumbs up he was giving him.

“Hey, you’re early. I don’t have your drink ready yet, but I can in a minute-”

“It’s fine, I know I’m early. I actually…” Crutchie trailed off, distracted. Elmer had switched from his thumbs up to alternating between pointing at Finch and making the ok hand sign. Finch seemed to realize that Crutchie’s eyes were fixed behind him and turned around, just as Elmer had started to make heart shapes with his hands.

Finch picked up a towel that was on the counter and swatted at him with it.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Elmer just laughed and shot one last thumbs up at Crutchie before turning to leave them alone. Finch turned back around, throwing the towel over his shoulder. His ears were red and his face was a little pink, but he was still grinning. Crutchie felt his own mouth form a smile at the sight. Finch was just so _pretty_ , it was unfair.

“What were you saying?” Finch asked, snapping Crutchie out of his brief daze.

“Do you want to hang out later? I know we kind of did the other day when I was sick but we should again sometime, if you wanted to that is.”

Finch was wearing that easy smile that so often graced his lips.

“Yeah, of course! I get off at four, if you’re free today. It’s like,” he checked his watch, “2:45 now so if you’re want to hang around for a bit?”

Crutchie nodded, excitement growing in his chest at the thought of going somewhere and doing something with Finch.

“Sounds great!”

Finch chuckled. “Let me get your drink for you then.”

An hour and 15 minutes later, Finch was untying his apron and heading into the back for his stuff. Crutchie stood near the counter, leaning on his crutch and waiting for Finch to reemerge from the room. He absentmindedly scrolled through his phone as he waited.

“Hey.”

Crutchie looked up. Elmer was at the counter near him.

“Oh, hi,” Crutchie responded.

“He really likes you, you know that?”

Crutchie flushed. He ducked his head and let out a nervous laugh.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

Elmer shook his head, his expression changing from the perpetual grin he seemed to wear to something less playful.

“I’m not pulling you leg- no offense.” Crutchie snorted out a laugh. Elmer’s smile returned briefly before turning serious again. “I mean it. He likes you. You treat him good, okay?”

All Crutchie could manage to do was nod, his face burning. Elmer gave him a reassuring smile as he turned away, just as Finch came out the door, a messenger bag slung across his body.

“You ready to go?”

Crutchie nodded and smiled. “Yeah, let’s go,” he answered, wrapping his scarf around his neck so he could tuck his face into it if he wanted to.

They headed out the door. The air was cold but still, making it more tolerable than the wind had been earlier. Crutchie stuffed a hand into his pocket.

“So where are we going?” Finch asked.

“There’s this bookstore about a block from here that sells used books. It’s really cozy, I think you’ll like it.”

“I think I’ll like anything as long as you’re there.” Finch didn’t look at him when he said it, just looked straight ahead with a smirk on his face. Crutchie was used to this kind of flirting at this point, but the words, coupled with what Elmer had said, seemed to strike him more than normal. He was so preoccupied with looking at Finch in his small amount of shock that he didn’t notice the man walking towards him at his side till his crutch was kicked out from under him.

He fell forward, landing hard on his knees. Pain rocketed through him. He was definitely going to be bruised there for a while.

Finch was at his side in an instant.

“Oh my god, Crutchie are you okay?”

Crutchie nodded, trying to pretend he was kneeling this long because he wanted to, not because he didn’t trust his knees enough to support him in trying to get up. Finch picked up his crutch and helped him to his feet, his face full of concern and worry. Finch glanced off to Crutchie’s side at the stranger who’d caused Crutchie to fall, his expression quickly turning to anger.

“Hey man, what the fuck?”

The stranger sneered in response.

“Maybe if he’d watched where he was going he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“Maybe if you’d been more respectful of other people walking on the sidewalk-”

“It’s the stupid crip’s fault for getting in my way.”

Finch’s face fell from anger to a cold, stony expression.

“What the fuck did you just call him?”

It happened quicker than Crutchie could process. One second Finch and the man are having a staredown and the next his fist is connecting with the guy’s jaw.

Crutchie didn’t know what to do except watch in shock as blow after blow connected between the two men. At some point they’d found their way to the ground so they were essentially wrestling on the pavement. The spectacle had begun to draw a bit of a crowd and Crutchie’s head finally caught up to what he was seeing.

Crutchie moved forward and reached in as much as he could to try and pull Finch off the stranger. He could only really use one hand because of his crutch, but by some small miracle, it seemed to be enough to remove Finch from the other man.

He was breathing heavily and was bleeding from a few different places. Crutchie rushed him away from the crowd and the man and quickly led them both in the direction of Crutchie’s apartment, opposite the direction they’d been heading before. There was a moment of tense silence until Finch spoke.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to my place. You’re all bloodied up and there’s no way you’re going to bleed all over those books.”

Another couple of seconds passed with no conversation. 

“I’m sorry I started a fight.” Finch said, hanging his head timidly. Crutchie shook his head, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips, not that he’d admit to it.

“That was really dangerous Finch. You didn’t have to do that, I’ve dealt with worse before.” Finch’s head snapped up.

“You shouldn’t have needed to. I wish I was there every other time you had to put up with stupid shit so I could fight those people too!”

They reached his building. Crutchie ushered Finch up the front steps and into his apartment building, quickly making his way towards his place and letting Finch into his home.

Crutchie sat Finch down on his couch and went to his room to get his first aid kit. Sometimes Jack would get drunk and Davey wouldn’t be around to patch him up when he fell down or got into fights. Crutchie was familiar with the routine of fixing someone up. Finch’s injuries weren’t severe at all, but he was going to have a hell of a black eye tomorrow.

When he came back, Finch was sitting cross legged, bringing his hand to and from his mouth, seemingly to see if there was any blood coming off it still. While the bleeding had significantly slowed, it hadn’t completely stopped. He handed Finch a tissue to hold to his lip, which he accepted with a grateful look, wincing as he pressed it to his mouth. Crutchie sat down next to him and pulled out some bandaids and disinfectant and made Finch turn his body to face him, assessing which places Finch had broken skin and which places were just going to be a nasty bruise.

He had a split lip, a cut just above his eye on his eyebrow, a scrape on his jaw from the concrete, and something was bleeding just a little on his neck, probably just a deep scratch. The cut on his eyebrow was probably the worst of it all, small enough that it didn’t need stitches but but big enough that it was still bleeding quite a bit. Everything else was either just going to bruise or a red mark that would fade fairly quickly. He reached out and gingerly touched Finch’s jaw, moving it to different angles so he could make sure he didn’t miss anything. Finch was completely silent as Crutchie did this, his eyes fixed on Crutchie’s hands. Crutchie drew his hand back, shaking his head. He started to wipe up some of the blood that had dripped from his eyebrow.

“I still can’t believe you did that. I mean, I appreciate the sentiment but really Finch, that was reckless. Brace yourself, this is going to sting,” Crutchie warned before dabbing some disinfectant onto the cut on Finch’s eyebrow. Finch sucked in a breath at the contact and shut his eyes, but soon let the breath back out.

“I couldn’t just let him get away with saying that shit to you! People who do that kind of shit deserve to get beat up.” He grumbled. Crutchie tapped Finch’s chin and motioned upwards with his own head, silently letting Finch know that he wanted him to raise his head. His eyes focused on the cut that hooked just below his jaw. He had to kneel a bit on the couch to see it properly, but the angle was odd, even with Finch tilting his head up. Crutchie leaned farther forward, having to brace himself on something to keep his balance. Unfortunately that something was Finch’s knee. He dabbed at the cut with a tissue, trying to clean it but trying not to be rough with it at the same time. Despite how careful Crutchie was being, Finch still seemed to tense when Crutchie touched him.

“You still got all banged up because of me, I feel bad about it.” Crutchie said, pulling away a bit to look at the condition of the injury. He realized suddenly how close he was to Finch, practically inches from his face. Finch also apparently seemed to realize this, because he stiffened even more than before. He slowly moved his head so it was more or less the way it had been before Crutchie had made him tilt it upwards. Crutchie was positioned above him, his hand still on his knee. He looked up at Crutchie and gave him a look that was all sincerity.

Finch ran his tongue over his split lip before speaking.

“It was worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” His voice was an almost whisper. With the atmosphere and the proximity, it almost felt like if he spoke any louder then the moment would be gone, then everything would change. They could feel it though; everything was going to change regardless.

Crutchie raised his hand that wasn’t on Finch’s leg to Finch’s face, his fingertips just barely grazing his skin, his cheekbone, the bruise that was blossoming there. Despite how light the touch was, Finch still seemed to lean into it. Crutchie’s eyes flicked between Finch’s split lip and his eyes quickly, like he was making a decision. He leaned down, placing his mouth on Finch’s.

It wasn’t a long kiss, just a gentle, soft press of their lips together. Finch tasted like blood, which wasn’t surprising, all things considered. Crutchie spent less time thinking about the taste and more time thinking about how he was kissing Finch, like actually kissing him in real life. It was happening.

He pulled back quickly, not very far, just far enough that he could see how wide Finch’s eyes were, how startled he looked. For a moment, neither one of them moved. After a second of staring at each other, Crutchie could feel the anxiety rising in him, the fear that he’d done something wrong, something unwanted. He tried to smile, tried to test the waters to see if Finch was okay. A flicker of a smile crossed Crutchie’s lips, only lasting a second, too full of hesitation and anxiety to be genuine. He looked at Finch and he hoped and prayed that they would be okay.

Finch suddenly seemed to snap out of his shock, his daze. He surged forward, pressing his lips again to Crutchie’s. This kiss was so much different than the previous one, filled with so much more certainty, more urgency, and Crutchie couldn’t help but melt into it because _wow_ that was nice.

Finch maneuvered them so he could pull Crutchie down into his lap rather than have him kneeling above him, making it so Crutchie was essentially straddling him. His hands moved to both of Crutchie’s sides, which served both as a means to steady him there and a way for him to touch Crutchie in any way he could. Crutchie felt Finch’s tongue tease at his mouth, which he readily opened, deepening the kiss. Finch’s tongue slipped into Crutchie’s mouth and he let out a little involuntary whimper, a noise swallowed by Finch’s mouth on his. Finch’s hands seemed to want to move, to stroke up the sides of Crutchie’s body but also didn’t want to leave their place on his ribs, resulting in these stunted caressing motions, that, while a little awkward, were still anything but bad.

After a minute like that, Finch pulled away. His breath was a little ragged, as was Crutchie’s. They sat there for a minute, trying to catch their breath, looking at each other. A smile broke out on Crutchie’s lips, a smile which Finch mirrored. It started with a giggle from the back of Crutchie’s throat, which spread to Finch, which grew into a soft laugh, which turned into both of them laughing loudly, happiness spread across their features. Finch pulled Crutchie close to his chest and held him close as he laughed. Crutchie wrapped his arms around Finch’s neck and let himself sink into the warmth of Finch’s body, into the calm that was settling over them. Crutchie pulled back after a moment, cradling Finch’s face in his hands, a look in his eyes of fondness, of genuine care. Finch sighed, closing his eyes

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you,” Finch admitted quietly. Crutchie placed a kiss on his forehead.

“You could’ve. I would’ve let you.”

Finch smiled. He kept his eyes closed, like he was focusing on the memory of the day they met.

“You looked so cute that day, with your cheeks and nose all red from the cold and your scarf around your neck. Plus that sweater...and your smile...it was all just so cute.”

Crutchie didn’t care at all that his face was pink or that he was grinning so broadly. He pressed a quick kiss to Finch’s lips.

“You’re a dork, you know that?”

Finch opened an eye.

“Yes but I’m _your_ dork.”

Crutchie laughed but he couldn’t keep the sincerity out of his eyes. He carded a hand through Finch’s curls.

“Yeah. Mine.”

Finch sighed at the contact and closed his eyes again.

“Do you want to go on a date sometime? Because as much as I’m glad today ended up how it did, I’m not sure I want to see you get beat up again,” Crutchie asked.

Finch chuckled. “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, we could go to a movie, or a museum, or-”

“Or get coffee?” Finch joked. Crutchie laughed.

“Or that. We could definitely do that. I hear there’s a really cute guy who works at the shop down the street.”

“Oh don’t bother with him, he has a really cute boyfriend. He’s not looking for anyone else.”

Crutchie felt his smile only grow wider. “Yeah?”

Finch opened his eyes again and his gaze was softer than it had ever been.

“Yeah.”

They eventually moved so that they were lying on the couch, essentially side by side but also somewhat overlapping on each other because of the limited space. Finch was curled up at Crutchie’s side, mindful that he wasn’t lying on Crutchie’s bad leg. His head was tucked into the crook of Crutchie’s neck. He reached his hand over to Crutchie’s and laced their fingers together, stroking his thumb over the back of Crutchie’s hand. Crutchie brought Finch’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss on his knuckles, where the skin was tinted just the slightest hint of blue and purple, a forebear to the deeper bruise below the surface. Finch smiled against his shoulder and took a deep breath, letting out a long, satisfied, contented sigh. He nuzzled in just the tiniest bit closer and Crutchie thought his heart was about to burst with how full it was with happiness and joy and love.

“Thank you,” Finch whispered.

“For what?”

“For being here. For being real,” he said. After a second pause he added, “For being you.”

Crutchie didn’t respond, just squeezed his hand and smiled, even though he knew Finch couldn’t see it.

Finch fell asleep like that. Crutchie knew because he could feel his breathing steady out, could feel his heart’s slow, rhythmic thrumming against his side, where Finch’s chest was pressed to him. He brought a hand over to stroke Finch’s arm, liking the way he unconsciously curled closer into Crutchie’s side. Crutchie let his eyes fall shut and allowed himself to doze off to the breathing of the boy to his side.

And when Jack came in later and saw them cuddling, when he stage whispered “Fuckin’ finally” in their direction, Crutchie woke up enough to flick him off before going back to sleep. It was easy to fall asleep like that because they were warm, and they were safe, but most of all, they were happy, and that’s all Crutchie could have ever hoped for.

**Author's Note:**

> Why is Finch always working? Why is there never a line at the coffee shop? it’s called lazy writing!! lol hope you guys liked it! Comments and kudos greatly appreciated!!!! I don't have anything else to say so [here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bwlk0vVi1XI&feature=youtu.be) a video of Anthony Zas tap dancing. It has nothing to do with this fic but I love it. Hmu on tumblr @ [broadwait](http://broadwait.tumblr.com/). Hope y'all have a good day!!


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